


Elyseum

by Arkaham



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, OOC Sherlock, Vessels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkaham/pseuds/Arkaham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so John Watson succeeded in kill himself.</p>
<p>The morning of that day was grey and dull, and his eyes were set on the west, at the wall. He didn't knew that this day was the day, so he started with tea with some cream and leftovers of Jammy Dodgers. When John felt the cold crept at his body as the life abandon him, he heard the most wonderful singing voice, it promised him happiness, eternal and unfinished happiness and he only had to said yes to that happiness. John, tired of the sadness, the emptiness and the dull pain in his heart, he said yes without thinking, hell he was dying, he wanted a happy afterlife, like everybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elyseum

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I'm very bad at that summary start, but trust me, this one had a kind of happy ending. After all, I did enjoy this nanowrimo baby.  
> Yes this first part is kind of OOC, Sherlock already in love and every one knows about it.  
> I had to said that my orthographic mistakes were filtered by MSWord.

Sherlock was drinking tea, black, two sugar and a little bit of cream. His dyed curled flew in the hot wind of summer. He was reading an old newspaper, the telly of the coffee was chatting softly in the background, the other clients were a nuisance as well and he had to tolerate a couple of weeks more, if he ever wanted to finish the job.

Job was find Sebastian Moran and cross his name from Sherlock's most wanted list before the man discovers that Sherlock was alive and goes to finish his work. Kill John.

_Dear John, the tea in the sun and the stars is as bad as your cooking_. Sherlock saved the entry in the folder of “stories for John”. After that, he left the old paper and pulled out his mobile, press a random button and the wallpaper show up. Sherlock smiled fondly at the image.

“That's beautiful mum” A random child cried in the street.

“Light's shower!” screamed a female teenager.

“Meteorites” The man behind him commented to his failed date.

His mobile reflected the lights in the sky, indeed, there were meteorites falling illuminating the sky. Sherlock turn and watched the sky for a few moments. Then he pretended to take some pictures with his mobile. Next time, his disguise will be of a member of the police force and not an idiotic tourist.

The next days, the telly keep recalling the event, tried to give explanation as the why the whole world saw meteorites and why the all mighty NASA wasn't aware of the event, furthermore, why no one found craters of the meteorites.

That of course was entirely irrelevant for his job, after all, knowing about a bunch of meteorites wasn't kill Moran or tell him where he was hiding. The whole event was deleted within hours.

The attire of today was something really idiotic, a baseball cap with the words NYJ in a very ugly green, a white shirt with the biggest I heart NY, faded jeans and snickers, brilliant red with white. He take his backpack full of parches of at least seventeen cities that twelve were from the States. Sherlock also take his _guide to London_ and exited the room and the hotel.

Sherlock walked the city with his nose deeply in the little book, whoever looked at him only saw a last tourist, but in fact Sherlock was walking the same three blocks contemplating all possibilities for good hiding spots. Sometimes Sherlock stopped and looked around, in fake wonder, as if his little guide had told him a secret from the city.

And that was when Sherlock hit John.

“I am sorry” the voice of John made Sherlock's heart miss the beat. He was there, in front of him. So healthy, so beautiful, so distracted and very off of himself. If Sherlock wanted he could hug the man and shove him into his hotel room.

“No problem” Sherlock answered with his perfect American accent. John stood up and held a hand to help Sherlock stand up. Sherlock took it. It was soft, and warm, and very John. As soon Sherlock was up, John picked up the little book and observed as if he had never seen the book before.

“I'm kinda of lost” Sherlock said. John kept his attention on the book. Then something kicked in. John hasn’t asked if he was ok. His medic side haven't showed. Normally, he even has asked if he can take him to whatever Sherlock wanted as apology.

“Good luck” John returned the book and walked again in direction of the park. What happened to his John to behave like this?

Sherlock decided to follow the army doctor for a few hours and find out.

John walked into the park and sat down next to a tree. Then he begun to talk, not even caring if the people looked at him.

“What are we going to do” John begun “There is no home to return and.... I'm already miss you”

Well that was very John, missing Sherlock. Sherlock smiled a little bit but soon his smile faded.

“I will find that idiot” John sighed and laid in the grass, John was talking of Sherlock, idiot was the pet name for Sherlock or it was the file said. He stood that way until midnight, and Sherlock found that strange. No man or woman or child dare to disturb him and even the animals keep their distance.

John stand up and looked at where Sherlock was hiding, he smiled like he had watched some magic spell sprout form the three and walked away.

Sherlock was tired of watching, of trying to collect information of his John, of being in his knees for hours and being still, of tolerate the good gestures of the Londoners to give him. He returned to his hotel room and called Molly.

“Hi ..” She answered nervously. “It's no good time but...”

“Is John fine?” Sherlock asked first without greet his friend.

“I don't know any more” She was fiddling at the other side of the line, sheets were moving and a lamp was turned on. “Maybe you can help him; he isn't the same since....”

Oh the incident. She was still touchy about the subject.

“I know, that's why I'm here” Sherlock said saving Molly of the pain of saying it again.

“Hurry up Sherlock, I got a bad feeling” She declared confident, they had discussed the _feelings_ before, but as it, the last time Molly had the _bad feeling_ , John had told her that maybe his third intent was the lucky one. That was on Friday and John was like another person the next Monday he saw him.

“Thank you Molly” Sherlock hung up and paced his room. He indeed needed to work faster.

Over the next week, Sherlock discovered where and how Moran was acting, the man stalked John every day from his little flat to the clinic, he even had the insolence to visit him to the clinic as a patient. Of course sweet John, sweet lovely John didn't notice anything wrong with the man.

So Sherlock disguised himself as librarian, as much as the librarian had uniforms, he put a wool knitted cap with matching scarf, glasses, fake speckles, brown jacket, black bow tie, grey trousers, the same red snickers of his American idiot tourist disguise, and a red coat.

He asked Sarah for a turn with Doctor Watson in the clinic and the woman complied asking the symptoms, then she sent him to wait. To his utterly disgust Sebastian Moran was there too.

“Doctor Watson is the best doctor in the clinic” said Moran suddenly, his tone implied that the man wanted to chat. Sherlock looked at him and faked a big smile.

“Oh, is it?”

“Yea, I had my thumb sliced off by wife and the Doctor just joined” Sebastian raised his right hand to show the scar. A very big scar around the thumb was there to show off.

“You didn't went to an hospital?” Sherlock asked in true curiosity.

“Too far” Answered Sebastian. His body told Sherlock of security, the cloth talked of loneliness and of course no wife.

“I see” Sherlock observed the man carefully.

“No you don't” Moran said happy “I was in pain, the hospital was too far and my house is like two blocks from here, so I came. Doctor Watson was the only free doctor at the moment and when he saw my hand, he smiled and took me to his office, and then he did his magic. Put an analgesic, then sewed my thumb and said to me, _Pray to the angel Tessiel_ and you hand will be fine in few weeks, he bandage and kick me out”

The man sighed, the pulled his back until some bones cracks and returned to see Sherlock.

“My hand was okay within the week, I returned to told the doctor Watson of the miracle and he just said, you had faith, don't share it”

What? John was never a devoted man, or at least he had never spoke with him about saying his patients to have faith.

“Oh that sounds wonderful” Sherlock said faking surprise.

“It's unbelievable, I know, but as far I know, the Doctor is very good with his medicine and even a good friend, he allows me to come to visit him in his work and talk”.

Sherlock's browns raised, John must be desperate to make friends out of patients.

The door of the office opened, a woman with a child exited, very grateful the woman said her goodbyes to the doctor. John walked to the hallway and watched both men.

“Hey Sebby, how about you wait until I attend the gentlemen?” Asked warmly John to Sebastian.

“Good, I can get you chocolate in the meantime” Sebastian said standing up.

“Great” Then John looked at Sherlock “Please come in” And allowed Sherlock enter the office first.

John's office held a lot of figurines, an iron dancer with the classic style of India, a plastic angel that was covering its face, a blue smug with the letters “trust me, I'm The Doctor” and finally the grey deerstalker, The Deerstalker.

Sherlock looked at the hat with disgust.

“That belonged to Sherlock Holmes” John said casually “but I like to think that it was used in the Christmas special”

“Oh” Sherlock barely said, this John was acting weird.

“I'm Doctor Watson, how do you feel?” John began his office.

The very act of seeing that hat throw him and then hearing that it belonged to a something else left Sherlock without words. Every object, every movement told Sherlock that the John he once knew changed into this strange.

“I felt homesick” Sherlock said, maybe hinting who he was his John come back. “And very bored, everything is so dull”

“Something else?” John was at the other side of the desk taking notes.

“The nicotine patches are becoming insufficient as today” Sherlock continued.

“But otherwise you feel fine? No pain somewhere?” John interrupted suddenly “The form said you felt colds, and a severe headache, are you implying that you lied just to enter this clinic?”

John made him smile, made everything worth.

“Something like that” Sherlock felt the need to take out his disguise.

“Alright” John stopped scribbling, he stood up. “I will advise a good psychologist but since you're here, I'm going to hear you and try to help you in whatever I can.” Then he opened a dresser and pulled out a paper bag and extend it to Sherlock. “Jelly babies?”

 

# {/Sherlock one}

Sherlock walked on street, feeling very furious, he wanted to be the psychopath that Scotland Yard claimed he was. First he had told John under his disguise how in love he was of his flatmate, John answered that that was quite healthy and very common, but when Sherlock added he had to leave his flatmate leaving just a suicide note, John said that wasn’t a healthy way of break up a relationship and his advice was to talk to this flatmate and talk properly before any tragedy happens, and when Sherlock said that it was too late and said that his flatmate killed itself for guilty or sorrow John just said, move on and try to no do it again and tried not to live with the guilty.

Sherlock stood off and remove his facial disguise and said “It's me, Sherlock and I love you John” John just said. “Sherlock who?” then leave his notepad and thought. For a moment Sherlock waited for a good punch or jellying or some drama with crying and more, one of the three things that his John should had done, but this man suddenly said.

 

“Oh, that Sherlock, The Sherlock. That’s why you weren't in heaven, that explain also....” he trailed off, offered a smile “Sorry, sorry” took his hand, shake it and added very polite “Nice to meet you again Mr Holmes, refrain yourself of getting upset if someday near the future I write something in my... er.... that thing on the computer” He take his coat and leave the building, to drink some hot chocolate with Sebastian Moran two stores away”

Sherlock wanted to kill that John, he had poured all his heart in front of him, he reveal himself, asked forgiveness and the man just walked again as if Sherlock was some kind of rock start that just wanted a few minutes in an interview.

He stopped suddenly, his eyes cached a blue, a very distinctive blue in a store at his side. Behind the crystal there was the very same mug that was in John's office, also it were a lot of items with the same blue and other with the same angel. A clue.

Sherlock entered the store, there was a female clerk. She was using a red fez, a black bow tie painted in a white shirt, suspenders with a short black skirt and she was arranging little blue boxes in a stand.

“Hello sweetie” She chirped. Sherlock observed. Girl almost twenty five, married, obsessed with the store, two cats maybe tree, there were a lot of claw marks in her legs, none recent, fresh colour on her lips, very happy in marriage.

“Can you help me?” Sherlock asked, faking nervous around the store, looking at every item, he arranged his glasses “My girlfriend wanted me to give her a mug from this store”

“We had a lot of mugs” she said moving near a standing. “our top favourite is this one” She raised the blue one with the same phrase, _Trust me I'm The Doctor_

“That’s very....” he sounded uncertain. She smiled.

“It had the blue TARDIS and one of the Doctor's popular phrase, but if you like we had the TARDIS mug” the clerk leave the mug in favour of raising another blue mug, this had the same blue but it shape was like the old police boxes.

“No... I'm kind of wanted something with the deerstalker of ” he begun and the girl interrupted him.

“The Snowmen special? I'm sorry, there isn't nothing yet in the store, but if you like, you can visit the central store” She leaved the mug and give him a little card. Sherlock exited the store.

John has never been a fan of nothing, never thinking of an old telly show. That had raised more questions.

 

Sherlock returned to his room that evening, he kicked some trash cans in his way and thought, _John is a whovian and he don’t reacted when he saw him_. He begun another list in his hard drive titled, oddities of John Watson or the clues as why he is acting odd. He listed first, telly, then he added, friendship with Moran, a third item called forgetting about medicine and a four was added don't treat me as his friend. This last item he underlined.

As he used logic and the arguments John gave to him the previous day, Sherlock conclude that, in a some level, he done something stupid to made John mad, but at what point?.

Or John had understood some kind of hidden true after his third try of suicide?

Five days later Lestrade told him, inside a pub how he had meet John a lot of times before his attempts of suicide and after a month of so the third, John became distant and forget everything about Lestrade and the friends on the Yard.

Greg even received a couple of calls from Mycroft to keep a close eye on John on those days, but the man was weir. One day Lestrade even, invited John to go out and drink, John had declared that beer and whisky were the bitterest drinks of the world and never wanted to drink those ever again, and since that day, Greg had failed in persuade John to hang out with him, at least in pubs, the man had kept something else and choose to kept to himself and Sherlock can't deduce it from the man cloths or movement.

Sherlock then choose the next Saturday to take down Sebastian Moran. The man was happy at just drink hot chocolate at John’s side and Sherlock was somewhat jealousy of that, oh how he wanted to be in that place, smiling next to John, watching John’s beautiful eyes, and making his move to steal a kiss.

Or two.

The morning of the Saturday came with a rain, Sherlock dyed again his hair back into a black, his curls were happy with the dark colour. He dressed as his usual self; a purple shirt, black suit, grey long coat and a blue scarf. The ride to Baker Street was in silence, but the driver bit his lips, he wished with all his soul ask if Sherlock was the guy in the news two years ago, but he was polite and he kept his mouth shut. Sherlock thought that that saved the man’s life. Sherlock was still in killer mode.

Once in Backer Street, Mrs Hudson fainted and he had to carry her to her own flat and leave her sleep, then bounced happy to his own flat.

John was there, sweet John was there, and, well this was embarrassing, he was in his birthday suit trying to write with two index in his computer, his brow were joined and part of the tongue was showing. Sherlock's body temperature raised at least five degrees.

“John” he whispered.

“Oh hello” John greeted without looking. “I wasn't sure if you were coming in the week and I was ready to give up when there wasn’t any signal of you. There is tea in the jar, help yourself, I'm going to put....” he looked at Sherlock for and instant, his tongue passed his lower lip as if trying to imitate some gesture “.... and...” The smile in his face grow wider and wider. John slammed shut the poor machine and walked around Sherlock before to leave to his own room.

Sherlock’s mind was like a blue screen with a gigantic signal, looping every second: error system failure. Sherlock slapped himself, trying to regain some composure, but soon found that the whole system in his head was corrupted and at some points it was like seeing telly with noise.

He had to reboot.

John returned, wearing, bloody hell, just a bath robe, his feet still naked, under the robe wasn't any clue of more cloths beside the bathrobe. John again walked around Sherlock.

“Then let me help you” John took Sherlock’s hand and forced Sherlock to take sit in John's armchair, then banishing to the kitchen. Oh John’s hands were softer that he remember and warmer and.... was he smelling like flowers?

Who in their good mind put on flowers smell?

John returned with a cup of tea and handed it to Sherlock, then went and reclaim Sherlock's armchair. John take sit as if he was the sexiest thing in the world, but he already was, isn't it?, and he left his legs open inviting the eyes  in front of him to follow the line of his legs and under the bathrobe and, oh my god.

Take a sip of the cup, take a sip of the cup, you're married to your work, your married to your work, is that John's treasure? Yes, those were and John was allowing Sherlock a little snack view.

His body raised again two degrees.

“So what I can do for you?” John asked as if nothing was happening.

Sherlock drank from the tea, once, twice until he ended his tea. For once his mind was empty. Not in reality, it was in a unbreakable loop saying: _This is impossible, even if this was what remained._

John put his hands in his tights, and slowly, very slowly opened the bathrobe even more. Sherlock eyes can't leave that little movement and for every year he spent training at not reaction to that, his body betrayed him raising the corporal heat one degree.

“Here, take another cup” John served more tea and Sherlock drank faster than the first.

 

# {/Sherlock two}

And John had to make more tea for Sherlock, he didn't understood why his body was betraying him in this way. All the clues were clearer that crystal, John was naked, he wasn't disturbed about that  little fact, they way John had sat on during the last twenty minutes showing his jewels shameless.

Plus John behaviour was rating an eleven in his odd-o-meter, that had only two bars.

Then John poured fresh tea in his mug, he leave the jar in the floor moving as if John was trying to show off his breast, a very feminine move but actualy very hot, if with that, the jewels were showing again. Then John sat on Sherlock's lap and smiled. Sherlock mind had a hard crash and any clue given was absolute lost. The man had sat in a way he was causing more friction than the necessary. John took Sherlock's hands and guided them to his hips, Sherlock colour went from pink to red in his cheeks, John guided both hands to his own tights and leave them, meanwhile his hands went to Sherlok's face. John leaned closer and kissed the nose, the right cheek.

Sherlock was positive that in that moment, his body was going to embarrass himself by producing an orgasm or something worst.

It was blissful, just those butterfly touches, those sweet little kisses that he didn’t felt two fingers in his skin and slept.

For an instant, Sherlock dream of John, a John like a handkerchief neatly folded and stored in the middle of a bluish light, John called him, John tugged him, John urged him but the light enveloped the two and Sherlock woke up.

For an instant, he tough that he was in the afterglow, but soon discovered that in fact, his body was relaxed but not for sex, it was relaxed in the same fashion it gets after sleep. Then John wasn't over him, he was in at the other side of the room looking at Sherlock.

John was full dressed, he even was wearing the dreadful cat jumper

“I am ready” John no so John said, Sherlock stood up. The darkness of the windows started him. It was mid morning when he came to the flat, what happened to the other.... ten hours?

What was John ready for?

“Do I have to take a torch?” He asked as if everything was very okay.

“Yes” Sherlock answered, he stood up and looked at room. He hadn’t move in those hours and the room had no more clues.

Except it had, it was a little, tiny clue, almost invisible to himself.

There, on the couch, lying casually it was John's gun. But the gun itself wasn't the clue, it was the fact that the gun held no bullets. And John wasn't looking at it, for him it was just like any other item in the house that it doesn’t deserve to go with John.

But where?.

Oh yes, that very morning, Sherlock had came to convince John to join him into catching Sebastian Moran without telling John they were catching Sebastian Moran.

“So where to go?” John smiled happily.

Had Sherlock spoke in dreams? Had he done something else in his lust drunkenness?

“Let's grab something for dinner?” Sherlock took the safest path, beside he was still weariness by the way John had reacted at his suddenly resurrection.

“Before catch the last man of Moriarty's web? I tough you want this faster” John answered.

Command line: Break.

What? Go to Sebastian? Had he told all this to John?

“Yes, come along John” Sherlock acted faster, before John can realise something was wrong with him. He compiled all the events and stored in a new folder with the name, Saturday with John. They exited the flat and boarded a cab.

“mm ...John” Sherlock begun in the taxi.

“Don't apology Sherlock, it happens to all of us and when I saw you, I just went with Mrs. Hudson” John added without details for dismay of Sherlock, what happened to him those ten hours?.

He remembered John, and a light and felt very rested.

“Thank you” Sherlock said, he pulled out his mobile and began a new message.

_Is the surveillance still working? SH_

“You look so sweet sleeping” Suddenly John said, then take out his own mobile, battle a little with the machine before show Sherlock, some photography of himself asleep on the armchair.

_Don't trust that thing. MH_

Came the reply, Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

_Keep its attention out of you. MH_

Added furthermore but as soon Sherlock ended the read the message another one enters.

_That thing is very dangerous. MH_

John? Dangerous. John was an army doctor and had killed for Sherlock in the past, but tagged as a dangerous?. Then it come to his attention that in his messages, Mycroft referred John as _thing_ , Mycroft must knew something, something that explained why his John wasn't behaving as his John, something that made Mycroft to call John a thing.

“Everything’s fine?” John asked, smiling in his side of the cab.

“Yes, just asking to Lestrade to assist us” at that instant he write a longs message explaining to the Detective Inspector what Sherlock was going to do and what he needed to do.

The reply made no sense.

_Call someone else, I like my life in the same way as is it today._

He raised his eyes, John smile was odd, Sherlock hadn't seen it before.

“Lestrade? He won't come” John said in a sure tone and said no more.

The taxi turned again for the last time and stopped. Both men descended the vehicle after paid, and looked at the house in front of them.

“Your man doesn't live here any more” John assured Sherlock, but Sherlock knocked at the house. A young man answered, in few seconds Sherlock told him a tragic history that involved the house behind the house the young man lived and how they need to get to roof to go to the other house, the man slipped his tears and allowed them to pass.

Once in roof, John looked at the black sky, smiling sad, somewhat nostalgic, but joined Sherlock as fast he could.

They entered the empty house that it was the very same house that was in front their flat. Sherlock congratulated himself for being able to trick John. But John said again, _your man doesn't live here anymore._

They walked in the darkness, Sherlock pulled his own gun and gestured John to use his, but Sherlock remembered that John had left the gun, John only smiled and from his back pulled something silver.

It was fifteen inches long, five for the tilt and the others ten for the blade by the way John handled the thing, it was beautiful and shined whenever it picked up light. It was very strange of John use that thing, it made him felt unsafe. Something in John's movements told him that the doctor had more confidence whit the silver thing than the gun, at some point Sherlock even tough, it was part of John somehow.

They keep walking in silence, they searched every room. There were rest of someone living there, some time ago. Finally they reached the room with the window to the street. There want any indication of Moran living there or any other man.

“I was sure Moran was here” Sherlock said irritated, he begun to flip the forgotten things searching for some clue.

He found a star drawed  with paint under a box, it had strange symbols. Pagan Sherlock's mind supplied, few weeks ago was painted, for what purpose. Cheap paint, very common, symbols: unknown.

John raised his silver thing when he saw the star, and dashed to the other side of the room, kicking the boxes faster than Sherlock. He found more symbols, a little different, more fresh.

“Have you seen this before?” Sherlock asked. He was trying to process all the data, storage all the image, trying to see more clues.

“Get out of here” John ordered.

“At least” Moran voice sounded in the door, Sherlock looked at the man, his posture was of power, his smile was devilish and his eyes, were black. Everything was black-

“All this time waiting for Sherlock and you got me in the half” John said keeping his silver thing raised, his slowly movements were directed to put himself between Sherlock and Sebastian.

“This birdie is very confident, but is so weak, like the others. I wonder what taste you will have” Moran said happy, his face followed John.

“It will best if you surrender now, Scotland Yard is waiting for our signal” Sherlock bluffed, he was now behind John and his eyes tried to come terms at what he was seeing.

“Silly human” Moran sing sang “Silly human” Moran closed the door being him, showing a fresh made sigil, it hold in the centre something alike a z, surrounded by a circle and around little letters.  Moran’s hand cut revealed the origin of the blood of the sigil.

“And that's why I'm going to kick your arse after this” John said.

Sherlock blinked a couple of times, John wasn't there and Moran panicked, both of them searching for a man that wasn't there, Sebastian even slapped the sigil behind him a couple of times like waiting for something to happens and with every time nothing happens, a curse flew on the room. Then the room shacked and both of them fell in the floor. Moran regained something of his good sense and tried to stand up fast. He pulled out a gun and aimed to Sherlock and Sherlock mimicked.

They both fired, both missed. Moran gave up his gun and advanced toward Sherlock, the shaking room made impossible for them to stand up. Sherlock keep shooting. Some of the shoots landed on Sebastian, the man keep moving as nothing.

Moran soon got Sherlock, they struggled, Sherlock noted that Moran was stronger like he had never imagined, and his hands were crushing his neck.

The room stopped his shaking, moment later, Sebastian's eyes shone for a moment and his body fell still over Sherlock.

“I will miss you Sebby, you were a good friend” John said, his blade was deep in Moran's back. John retrieved his blade and Sherlock noted that the blood doesn't poured. John kicked the body and held a hand to Sherlock. “Let's go home, I'm starving”

# {/Sherlock three}

 

Sherlock watched John ate, drink and smile. It was simple. He acted normal, very normal. He even, this time, asked if Sherlock was fine after the incident. He greeted the employees at the Chinese restaurant and gave Lestrade a call and told him how he will have nightmares if he didn’t pick up the body on the empty house and banish it. Well, that last part was very John-odd.

That night John sent Sherlock to sleep, but as soon the word _no_ formed in his lips, Sherlock woke up the next morning in his bed, naked and John at his side.

That of course was typical of John-odd.

So this morning, Sherlock didn't dare to push his luck by saying no to the good looking breakfast that sat in the table. They also were waiting for Lestrade to give his report.

In his place Mycroft came, one hour after the breakfast.

Sherlock noted how John and his brother shared looks and both of them sat in the opposite side of the rooms.

“I can see that my warning had no the desired effect” Mycroft broke the silence first.

“He likes him, it so fun” John agreed weird. Sherlock tough that Mycroft was talking to him. Then, who was talking John?

“Of course” Mycroft looked at his umbrella in his hands. “What do you thing of John, Sherlock?” His brother asked.

“Oi!” John screamed, his index finger aimed to Mycroft “Our bet is our bet, you cheat, you forget”

A bet? Between John and his older brother? This John was weirder that imagined.

“I told you, we don't have a bet” Mycroft declared standing up. “and therefore I am not cheating”

“No bet?” John head tilt one side. “Not a bet!” John stand up, for a couple of seconds the light turn off and on, Sherlock swore to himself that in the shadows behind John, wings appear, very battered wings,  with few feathers and the hint of bone.

But they were gone as fast Sherlock thoughts.

“No bet Doctor Watson” Mycroft said calmly, he sipped from his mug and fixed his eyes on John. “I am very sorry if something of what we talked in my last visit was misunderstood”

John fixed his eyes on Mycroft for a couple of seconds and returned to his couch.

“All right, all forgiven. But then, I must to inform you, that is duty of Sherlock and only him to discover the true by himself with no help of anybody under the penance of oblivion, otherwise, it will be bloody unbelievable to him and he will do stupidities”

“Agreed” Mycroft sipped more tea.

What they were talking about? What true?

“As for the last question brother” His brother stopped his thoughts. “I believe, you are still able to answer it” He spied to John and John nodded his consent.

“Brother I'm just trying to tie the lose ends here, but allow me to do it” Sherlock stand up. “Clearly John has suffered in the last three years and half, his cloth told me of how much he battles for keep it clean, but since I met him a week ago, the list grows. First he didn't react when he saw me. I had expected him to faint or punch me in the face, then yell me for the fake death, then yesterday when we were fighting Sebastian Moran, he just disappear, against logic he just vanished in thin air and kill Moran with a blade.

“But those things doesn't tell really nothing, the little thing does. His desk in the clinic, all of them talked of a new obsession, his walks on the park are an old habit hard to break, his lack of social abilities told me of a long encountered or total no social environment, but his confidence and curiosity without fear to speak of power and high self esteem And therefore, the man in front of me, either is a bad actor with a superb disguise of John Watson or John had suffered a strong trauma that lead him to change his behaviour completely. And there are cases of people....”

John busted in laugh at this point, his laughs were lousy and ridicules.

“I just think, you misunderstood everything about... this” Mycroft signalled John, his disgust was evident.

“What? Everything points toward...”

Greg Lestrade entered the room, he eyes fell on John still laughing, he looked then at the brothers.

“Did I miss something?” He asked looking at the scene in the flat.

“Greg that was epic” John said between laughs “He believes me and actor under a disguise or having a trauma” John returned to his laughs hard.

“Aren't you?” Greg answered John, but then focused on the brothers Holmes.

“Sebastian Moran's body was dispatched as John asked” He reported somewhat ashamed.

“But I guess, this is not to tell my brother only that” Mycroft poured more tea in his mug.

“No it is, we just found another body” Greg turned to John “Come on John, compose yourself, it was like the other”

“A murderer?” Sherlock eyes shun with the news.

“You can call that” John stopped laughing. “But it's like thousand better, it's a hunting” John added.

“Good lord” Mycroft sighted. “You already share Sherlock's tastes, Do I need to make invitations?”

“I believed you had sent them already” John said confused.

“I will not ask again” Greg give them his back and send a message.

“Where are the murders Lestrade?” Sherlock asked walking to the man as if he was the delicious beef in a pound full of hungry dogs. And Sherlock was the wolf in the pack.

“If I said that you are not allowed to participate, my breath it will be wasted isn't Sherlock?” Mycroft said suddenly.

“Of course brother” Sherlock tried to pry information from Greg.

“What? Are you saying that are you coming with us?” John said to Sherlock and then looked at Mycroft. “Is him trained for that kind of task?”

“I am afraid not” Mycroft answered John, then he ended his second mug and stood up. “I wish you luck, he loves mysteries and strange murders”

“That's what that said” John pointed the laptop. Sherlock glanced at John few seconds.

“This are murders John!” Sherlock said happy. “And since the Yard had come to you, well me, this means that these murders should be fascinating”

“For the record Sherlock” Lestrade interrupted “I was  degraded from the force, thanks to you”  Sherlock aimed all his senses to the man. “six months after your death, John get me decent job, but since a year we keep a hobbit” Greg declared.

Sherlock can't deduced, it wasn't showing off, all of Greg told Sherlock of the same man he knew three years ago was there somehow.

“What hobbit?” Sherlock demanded instantly.

Greg looked at Sherlock dumfounded, then to his bother Mycroft who was smiling and then John.

“well, bother said no to you and if you can’t deduce something from Greg, then you definitive can't come with us” John said, he walked to Sherlock. “Rest” He whispered and again tow fingers in his forefront and everything went dark.

Just like a blink, but a little longer.

Sherlock woke up, he was laid in the couch, his body was covered with his coat and under his head he had two pillows. In the kitchen he heard the soft mumbling, a tune very distinct, very short and somewhat happy.

John came to the room carrying a try with hot chocolate and some sandwiches. He noted Sherlock woken up.

“Good morning darling” John greeted.

Sherlock jumped up and watched the room, the early rays of morning confirmed John's words, the little birds in the distance, the early sounds of the city and even the crisp air of morning greeted him.

John sat up where Sherlock was sleeping. “It's warm” he purred.

“What did you do to me” He asked furious. It was the third time John use his fingers and send him to sleep.

“I just gave you sleep, you body likes it” John attacked his pile of sandwiches. “It's seems you are a heavy sleeper when you propose”

“I don't need to sleep” Sherlock counter. “and no for so long”

“That's not my fault” John defended “I just aimed for a couple of hours, but you manage to sleep for half a day or more” and shurreg. “wanna watch early news with me?”

“No, I should take a shower and eat breakfast” Sherlock said defeated. “What happened with Lestrade and his murder yesterday”

“I'll tell you once you ate your breakfast” John turned up the telly. Sherlock walked to his room and took everything for the shower.

Once in the bath, he noted how pink he was, and how his eyes shun. He was truly rested and his mind was thinking faster.

He catalogued Lestrade cloths meanwhile he washed his hair, he listed every detail he saw in his bother and also worded everything that was said yesterday.

Hunting was the key word in yesterday's chat.

But then, the hint of wings, John's blade, the insinuation of his bother, John naked in his bed.

“You need help?” John asked, he was inside the bathroom, Sherlock looked at him startled. John was in his birthday suit and was smiling to him.

Alert, alert, alert. Database malfunction, system shut down.

“I hope you don't mind if I join you” John entered the shower, steal the soap form Sherlock hands and begun to make foam.

“John I..” Sherlock tried to form a sentence, to spoke a word but he was in stactasis, John, dear sweet John was there, foaming him with his forehands, touching every inch of skin in the breast, in the stomach and stopping in the belly.

John's eyes were confused at what to do, if keep going south of return north, since Sherlock told nothing. Sherlock focused in John's lips for a few minutes, then closing the gasp between them.

A kiss. It was a simple kiss, but it was tender and soft, and the warm water was still running, his hand finally move and they took John's, one guided south and the other interlaced fingers.  John closed his eyes, enjoying, Sherlock followed him.

Sherlock moved his hand from the south to John's back and pressed them together, Sherlock dared to open his lips and like John's, he imitated and the kiss turned into a passionate one.

When Sherlock broke for air, he noted that their height difference had mattered naught, John looked at him startled, smiling. His hands grasping Sherlock’s sex with any hint of shyness.

“As much I enjoy this session, I hate the cold water”  John ruined the moment and flee the bathroom. Sherlock noted the cold water on his erection still pulsating.

# {/Sherlock four}


End file.
